Against All Odds
by Kirei L
Summary: Just when author Fujimiya Ran decides his life can't get any more hectic, his new working partner Hidaka Ken is introduced to the scene. Is there more than meets the eye to both of these men? (yaoi)
1. Introduction

**Important Notes on "Against All Odds"**

(1) **Although I haven't updated in quite a while, rest assured that I have not given up this fic.** I still work on it from time to time, and with luck should have a new chapter out soon. Real life has just been kicking me in the ass a little too hard lately, and I wasn't able to find time to write like I wanted to.

(2) This story's plotline is completely Alternate Universe and loosely based on a very old romantic novel named _Blessing in Disguise_ by Marie Ferrarella.

(3) There will be **yaoi**, with a Ken x Ran/Ran x Ken [mostly Kenran] pairing. Other WK characters may make brief appearances.

(4) At times there will be angst and somewhat spoilers to Ran and Ken's pasts from the anime/manga, though not exactly the same.

(5) Both Ran and Ken are four years older than their normal ages, putting them at 25 and 23 respectively.

(6) Aya (as in Ran's sister) is much younger than normally. She's around eight years old.

This story is also based on a song by Alien Ant Farm named _Attitude_. I totally recommend downloading it. The lyrics follow my story in points of view. By which I mean one verse seems to be coming from Ran's point of view, where as another verse may come from Ken. The lyrics and point of views are as follows:

(Ran P.O.V.)

Maybe I act on confused behavior

Maybe we crash like semi trailer

Maybe I'll spend my off-time without you

It seems like we need our own space

And all this time I wasted away

Do not feel good unless you stay

And all this time I've chased you away

Simply to catch back up with

(Ken P.O.V.)

All you see is red lights behind me

Maybe this isn't what you wanted, baby

And I don't blame you falling backwards

No one's ever quite confused you this way

And all this time I've wasted away

We don't feel good unless we're gray 

And all the times I chased you away

I simply don't feel good

(Both)

All this time we heard alarms

Come to find we fell apart

This whole thing has crashed down

All this time we heard alarms

(Both)

Your solitude is welcome, welcome

Your attitude is welcome, welcome

You are welcome


	2. Chapter One

**Against All Odds**

**Chapter One******

After having more time to think about it, Ran had come to the conclusion that it must have been temporary insanity.

There was no other plausible explanation for why he had surrendered, given up. Lock, stock, and barrel. Why **had** he agreed in the first place, he thought as he angrily paced the living room. 

Compromise? This was no compromise. It was reasonable to say he was forced into the situation. Maybe even, in some sick way, ordered to do it.

"I don't understand why I can't write it on my own," he had said only mere weeks ago. The question still echoed through his head. Why, indeed? The movie was going to be based on **his** book. Who else better to write the screenplay than the author of the novel it was derived from?

"Aya," his agent had implored that day in his office, "you're a novelist, not a screenwriter. There's a big difference. So naturally, I've set you up with the best in the business."

What Youji said had made sense, but he couldn't shake the feeling of overpowering helplessness. He was handing over his book- his pride and joy, his hard work and emotion- over to a complete stranger. And no matter how good Youji had insisted the screenwriter was, there was no way that person could ever know the book better than himself, and how to express the feelings within those words onto a screen. His story would be thrown onto the cutting table, mutilated and dissected at the hands of another.

Ran shuddered involuntarily, pausing in his frantic pacing as the tingle rushed down his spine.

He could still recall the look on Youji's face when he had threatened to turn down the movie deal. Youji's characteristic cigarette that usually hung limply from in between his lips began to shudder between clenched teeth. And when Youji had jerked it from his mouth to flick the ashes, the end had been squished from the tension in his taut lips.

Of all the offers Ran had received, there was no denying that Watanabe Shinji's of Sakura Productions had been quite… lucrative. The thought of losing all that money had made Youji's blood boil, and Ran had to sourly agree that it wasn't a very bright idea. But still, at the cost of his integrity, and that of the novel? He wasn't so sure that even an amount of money that hefty would be enough to balance out the scales.

Even so, Ran had felt inclined to take up the offer. After all, he owed Youji so much as his agent. When all other agents had turned him down, only Youji had been able to see the potential behind his plotlines and story scribblings. Four books later, he owed Youji his trust and faith, if nothing else. Without him, Ran would have never been discovered, much less become number one on the top ten sellers list.    

So it was with a guilty conscience that Ran begrudgingly acquiesced and Youji began to set up a meeting with a screenwriter who was also under contract with him, and whom Youji boasted as being the "best of the best."

And who was also fifty-five minutes late.

Somewhere during Ran's pacing he realized he had led himself over to the window. The wind moaned violently outside, sheets of rain pelting the glass without relief. Ran folded his arms over his chest, giving a glare that could easily match the intensity of the storm raging outside. He hated waiting. He could openly admit he was by far, not a patient man.

Turning away, a flash of something yellow caught his eye from underneath the coffee table. He walked over, stooping down to retrieve the object. Muttering, he placed the book on the small table, making a mental note to redeposit in his sister's room later. He hated disorder.

And yet, he couldn't help but feel his life was plummeting into the same… disorder.

Ran gazed blankly down at the book, his eyes tracing over the picture of a crying puppy on the cover. 

"I feel your pain," he murmured dryly to himself.

Within little over a month, his entire world had been rocked and jolted. First the movie deal, and then his… sister and parents.  He was only waiting for the moment when it would hit him like a sack of rocks- the moment when it would finally sink in that he was now responsible for another human life.

Even though he was having problems regarding his **own life.**

Team. It was a damnable word, and one he thought held no truth in his situation. He was sure there would be no "team" to speak of, and that the screenwriter would waltz in and take charge of the entire project, treating Ran like an imbecile. He didn't understand what the big deal was. He was a writer, for Christ's sake, it wouldn't have taken him too long to get the fundamentals of scriptwriting down, and even less time to master them.

Ran sighed, absent mindedly pulling on a lock of his fiery hair. What was he doing, he thought wearily. This was never going to work.

He was halfway across the room, ready to dial Youji's phone number when the doorbell chimed.

He halted, glaring at the offending doorway and toying with the idea of just ignoring the screenwriter altogether. Well, the quicker he got started the quicker it would be over.

He strode quickly across the room, flinging the door open in a gesture that he hoped was less than hospitable. On the other side of the doorway, stood a figure wrapped from head to toe in a rain slicker.

"You're late," Ran growled, his eyes pelting the stranger just as hard as the rain.

"And you're… a man!" The screenwriter squeaked in astonishment, one tanned hand peeking out from underneath the slicker to slightly move back the hood for a better look.

Ran folded his arms over his chest, elegantly raising an eyebrow. "Very sharp," he said icily.

The man smiled, his face only visible from the nose down with the raincoat on. "It's just that with your name- Aya. I always thought you were a woman."

"It's my penname," he bit out.

Ken just continued to smile, not all that surprised at the man's acidic personality. Youji had warned him ahead of time. He cocked his head sideways, leaning in to look over Ran's shoulder. "Nice living room. Are you going to let me see more of it?"

Ran had a strong mind to slam the door on the man's grinning face, nevertheless, he moved back, allowing the man to step through the threshold. 

Ken tried not to ogle as he stepped into the house, but he was finding it a hard endeavor. Of all the things he had been expecting, the least of all had been a man. Ken eyed him discreetly as he began to unbutton his slicker. And an **exotic** looking man at that. 

His blazing red hair was cut into long sweeps that brushed into his eyesight, and his strong cheekbones were accented on each side by a long lock of crimson. His skin, Ken realized, looked fragile to the touch. He was pale and creamy, seemingly made of the purest marble. But even more unique was his eyes. Twin violet jewels encased inside almond shaped frames vigilantly kept watch.

And, Ken noticed with discomfort, said eyes were calculating his every move. Ken paused with only a few buttons left, opting instead to extend his hand.

"Hidaka Ken. Nice to meet you."

Ran stared disdainfully at the hand, water droplets falling from the fingers onto his hardwood floor. Ken looked down, following his gaze, and smiled apologetically. His wet hand retreated back up to the slicker to finish unbuttoning it.

"Fujimiya." Ran replied, not even bothering to uncross his arms from his chest.

Ken finally pulled down the hood, revealing his entire face. "Am I to call you Aya then?"

"Ran is my real name, but only my…" He paused in mid-sentence, all too aware that he was about to say "family." Plural. "…only my sister calls me that."

"Ran it is, then," Ken turned his mahogany colored eyes on Ran. They were a unique sort of color, Ran mused, flecks of gold highlighting the deep, rich brown. They seemed to twinkle, even in the low lighting of the living room, and hold him in place. Ran blinked, feeling a bit disorientated, and realized Ken was holding out his slicker. He yanked the coat from Ken's grasp, digesting the man's other features as he hung it to dry in the closet.

He didn't know how old Ken was, but he looked to be young- too young to know anything about life or experience. There was no way he was letting this man get his hands on his novel.

"Are you always so late?" Ran shut the closet door with a little more force than needed.

Ken smirked, despite the cold treatment he was receiving. "I am when there are five car pile ups on the freeway." Ken slipped out of his shoes and stepped a little further into the room, his eyes taking in his pristine surroundings.

"Youji told me you would be difficult," he idly commented while running a hand through his dark hair. He began to stroll around the living room, examining the décor.

"I am **not difficult," Ran sputtered in protest, glaring as he watched Ken begin to finger some ornaments over the fireplace.**

"Then we should get along perfectly," Ken said, smiling back over his shoulder as he absent mindedly turned over the jade elephant in his hands.

I doubt that, Ran thought rigidly. 

Ran's eyes trailed up and down the man, attempting to take in the tiniest detail. He thought Ken looked more like he was there to baby-sit his sister, rather than a hard-working screenwriter. Once again, he reiterated his earlier thoughts of Ken being much too young to know what he was doing. Youji had mentioned that Ken was twenty-three, only two years younger than himself, but somehow Ran highly doubted that age to be correct. There was just no way. Ken had to be the damned youngest twenty-three year old in the world.

Ran felt far older at twenty-five.

He studied Ken silently, his irritation steadily rising as Ken sauntered about the room touching everything he could get his hands on. Most everything in Ran's living room retained the theme of white, and Ken's tanned skin seemed to blatantly stand out stark against the backdrop… unknowingly calling attention to himself.

Ran frowned deeply, watching Ken stick his face so close to a Japanese watercolor print that his nose was almost bumping the canvas.

Ken's clothing looked unprofessional. It made Ran feel overly dressed in his dress slacks and black, high-necked sweater. Ken was sporting loose fitting blue jeans and a tight, deep blue colored t-shirt. 

Surely Youji didn't expect him to work with this… this **boy?**

"Must you touch everything?" 

Ran's words made him stop with his fingers poised above a Japanese fan. Guiltily he clasped his hands behind his back, turning back towards Ran.

"Sorry, it's kind of my way of getting a feel for you. You know, the man behind the book." 

"It's my understanding," Ran began coolly, "that you're here to work on a script. Not to 'get a feel for me.' "

Ken shrugged, moving towards the couch and coffee table. He sat heavily, leaning over to peer at the yellow children's book lying atop the glass. "Into heavy reading?"

Ran sat down quietly at the other end of the couch, trying to mold his body closely to the arm rest. Anything to keep distance between him and Ken.

"It's my sister's."

"Good book. I've read it."

Ran snorted. "I'm sure it's just your speed."

Smiling, Ken sunk further into the cushions. Ran's attitude really didn't affect him all that much. Ken was sure he'd worked with novelists who were much worse in the past.

Although at the moment, he couldn't recall any.

I bet your bark is a lot worse than your bite, Ken thought to himself. There was just something lurking deep within Ran's eyes that lead Ken to believe that there was more than what scratched the surface of the man.

"I liked your book," Ken started, attempting to placate Ran, "in fact, I liked all your books."

"Thank you." His voice was pure ice, freezing to the bone. "But I've decided not to do the screenplay."

Ken's posture straightened a notch, his eyebrows jutting in confusion. "You're giving the entire project to me?"

Ran stood abruptly, his frustrated pacing starting anew. "You're not getting your hands on even one page of my book. I'm declining the movie production offer."

Ken slumped back down into the couch, absent mindedly scratching at his temple. "Oh, I see. You're scared." He pursed his lips together and nodded his head, as if agreeing with himself.

Ran instantly froze in place, his eyes narrowing into dangerous slits. "Scared?" He echoed, propping one hand up on his hip. His dislike of Ken was growing by the second.

"You're afraid that someone might have a little insight on your story other than yourself. That **maybe**, I might even have so much insight that I outdo the very book itself."

Ran growled, turning his head away from Ken's smiling face in an attempt not to utter any expletives. The audacity of the man! He had no idea how thin the ice he was treading had just become. He had never met someone so… so arrogant! 

"I'm not going to ruin your book, Ran," Ken said, rising from the couch to tentatively approach the novelist. "I'm really good at what I do, you know?"

You mean ruining people's lives, Ran thought sourly to himself. "Actually, I don't know."

Ken rolled his eyes, stepping away from Ran to glide over to a wall that sported various photographs. Youji hadn't been kidding when he had cautioned Ken about the… difficulties that would come with the project. Luckily, Ken enjoyed a challenge.

"Ever seen _Before the Morning," Ken asked while gazing over a photo of a young girl with dark, black hair. She looked familiar, in a way he couldn't place._

"No."

"_The Disciples_?" Ken moved a step to the right, eyeing another photo of the girl. This time her hair was twisted into two braids. Very familiar, he mused.

"No."

"What about _Tried and True_?" Ken stole a brief glance at Ran, who merely frowned in answer.

"Have you ever even watched a movie?" Ken huffed.

Ran crossed his arms, raising his chin into the air. "I don't get out much."

Ken turned back to the wall, noticing a newspaper clipping was next in the line of frames. "No kidding," he muttered to himself, eyes already scanning the clipping. 

He figured it wasn't too old because the color was no where faded to a musty yellow. The date above the headline confirmed his suspicion, only a little over a month ago.

_Last night's storm kills couple _was blazed in bold type across the top. Ken's eyes widened, recognizing the crying girl in the follow-up shot to be the exact same one adorning Ran's walls. She was soaked to the bone, her small hands reaching out for an unseen target off camera as a rescue worker held her at bay.

Ken blinked, startled, as a hand reached over his shoulder and yanked down the picture frame from the wall before he could finish reading the article. He turned, watching as Ran clutched it to his chest and away from prying eyes. For a brief moment, Ken thought he saw some sort of pain swirling within Ran's pools of amethyst, only for it to be covered up with the same disdain he had seen all morning. 

"I don't think I like you very much, Hidaka." 

Ken shrugged, his eyes boring into Ran's… searching. Nothing. Ken sighed. "No, probably not. And it's just Ken."

Ran huffed, turning away from Ken's intent gaze. The man's directness unnerved him to no ends. He placed the frame upside down upon the fireplace as he passed, watching out of the corner of his eye to make sure Ken didn't try to retrieve it to finish reading. 

Instead, Ken plopped back down onto the couch, pulling his legs up underneath him to sit Indian style. "This would be so much easier if you were like your books."

"What?" The word tumbled from Ran's lips before he had time to think.

"They're so full of emotion and sensitivity. Whereas you…" Ken gave Ran a sidelong glance, smirking, "…well, you know."

"Do you have a point," he said coldly, his fingers beginning to idly drum against the side of his slacks.

"Give it one week, Ran. That's all I ask. One week." Ken smiled sweetly.

"You're just going to prolong the inevitable, Hidaka."

"I don't know why you say that." Ken propped his chin up in his palm, tilting his head teasingly towards Ran. "There's no telling what could come from this partnership."

"The only thing that will come from this partnership is trouble."

"That can be fun, too," Ken said, rising from the couch to come toe to toe with Ran. "One week. Is that so much to ask? Just one week to get started." Ken tried to give his most imploring, innocent look.

"Or to finish." Ran narrowed his eyes, leaning in so close his nose was almost touching Ken's. 

"We'll see about that," Ken's eyes laughed back at his glare. Ran was starting to believe that nothing could make the man waver.

Ken stepped around Ran with one long stride, moving back towards the doorway. He fished his slicker out of the closet, swinging it about his shoulders with a flourish even Dracula would envy. "So what time tomorrow is good for you," he asked while trying to slip back into his tennis shoes.

"Nine." Ran watched with fascination as Ken tried to maintain his balance on one foot, teetering dangerously. "Sharp," he added, thinking about his long wait earlier. 

"Nine it is," Ken agreed, his hand already twisting the doorknob. "And don't look like you're ready to chew off your own leg to escape, Ran." Ken winked. "It won't be so bad," he called over his shoulder as he shut the door with a soft click.

"I beg to differ," Ran said to an already empty room. 

----------------------------------

"Honey, I'm home!" 

Ken's voice echoed off the walls as he slipped out of his rain slicker, tossing it on the coat rack. Immediately he heard the anxious pad of large feet against the hardwood followed by a deep bark. A flash of fuzz came barreling straight at him, knocking him flat to the floor before he could even remove his shoes.

"Agh! Gypsy! Down, girl!" Ken struggled between slurps of the dog's giant tongue, pushing her off of his chest. With a loud ruff, the dog relinquished her master, wagging her tail energetically as Ken struggled to get up.

Using one hand to untie his shoes, his other arm swiped the remaining dog slobber from his face. "That is so gross," he mumbled to himself, eyeing the happy dog. "Don't look so pleased with yourself," he said to the giant Golden Retriever. "I'll get you back later." 

Ken sighed, making his way towards the kitchen with Gypsy trailing at his feet. If not for the fact that is was still so early in the day, he would swear that he needed a strong drink.

"After meeting a man like that, who wouldn't," Ken thought aloud. 

Ken opened up the fridge and started scooting things back and forth inside to reach for a sport's drink. He twisted off the cap, bumping the refrigerator door closed with his hip. He absent mindedly took a large swig.

There was something about Fujimiya Ran. Whether that something was good or bad, Ken had yet to decide. Ken frowned, glancing out of his kitchen window to the still raging storm outside.

Storm… that made him remember!

Ken hastily sat the drink down on the counter, darting off down the hall to his study. Flinging open the door, he instantly dove into a pile of newspapers in the far corner, haphazardly tossing them this way and that. Gypsy crept silently into the room, tilting her head at her master's antics.

"I know it's got to be in here somewhere. I just know I haven't thrown it away yet," Ken mumbled to himself, picking up newspaper after newspaper, flinging them away in disgust. "No, that's not it either."

The dog padded softly up behind him, sniffing an article he had thrown over his shoulder. 

"Here it is!" He yelled in triumph, Gypsy skittering back a few feet at his booming voice.

Ken skimmed the pages, searching for…

"_Last night's storm kills couple," he read the headline aloud. "Shit!" Half of the article had been ripped off. Ken breezed over the information, or what was left of it._

"Leaving eight year old Fujimiya Aya in the care of her older brother…" Ken trailed off, blinking guilelessly at the missing part of the article.

"Ran's… parents?" He questioned to no one in particular. Of course, there was no way to be certain without the rest of the article. But it would surely explain why Ran had been so particular about Ken reading the clipping on his wall.

Ken reached towards Gypsy, lightly scratching her on the head.

"Well girl, at least I know now he has a good reason for being such a dick." Ken momentarily chewed on his lip. 

"I think there's more to Mr. Fjuimiya than meets the eye."

----------------------------------

"Aya?" Ran rapped quietly at the door. "Can I come in?"

No answer.

"If you… if you get hungry, I can make us some lunch," he said, laying his hand gently against the cold wood. Waiting, listening intently for any signs of life from within.

Ran sighed. "I'll be watching the news if you need me."

He crept silently away, moving swiftly through the house into the living room. Flinging his weary body onto the sofa, he let his head loll back onto the cushion, suddenly much too tired to hold his own body weight.

"What am I supposed to do?" Ran whispered to the empty room. 

----------------------------------TBC----------------------------------

Hold tight, it's going to be a bumpy ride ^_^ Sorry for any grammatical mistakes, this hasn't been beta'd.


	3. Chapter Two

**Against All Odds**

**Chapter Two******

"There's just one thing about your book that annoys me, Ran."

He knew it. From the start he knew Ken was going to butcher his story. He'd heard the horror stories from other novelists in the past. Ran didn't mind constructive criticism and helpful ideas from people he was already close to, which was few. Ken did not, by no stretch of the imagination, fall into that small circle of people.

"And what would that be?" Ran continued to scribble incoherent doodles on the notepad lying in his lap.

From the very moment he had awoken, somehow he knew he was in for trouble. It was only the first day and already he was regretting his decision to allow Ken a week with him and his novel. 

Luckily, for Ken that is, he had shown up on Ran's doorstep right on time. Ken had brought with him a laptop and a few manila folders stuffed hastily with unidentifiable papers. Surprisingly enough, Ken had got right down to business, instantly booting up the laptop and beginning some speculations about how to start off the script. 

But Ran really had no interest in anything Ken had to say. He knew very well that any ideas the screenwriter could have would be utter nonsense. He was just biding his time, waiting for the week to be up so that he could shove it all in Ken's face, and tell him to get packing.

So he had led Ken into the living room, snatched up a pen and notepad, and began scribbling away. Most of Ken's talking had become banter to his ears, shoved away to the recesses of his mind. But of course, the moment Ken even mentioned there being something "wrong" with his book, the writer side of Ran that constantly sought a pleasing reaction to his work spoke up.

"I think it could really use some humor." Ken looked up from his laptop, balancing it across his legs that were leisurely propped up on the coffee table.

Ran glanced across the room, his scowl firmly in place. "I'm not very good with humor."

Ken leaned deeply into the armchair he was occupying adjacent from where Ran sat on the couch. He propped his elbow upon the armrest, resting his chin inside his palm. 

"Surely you jest," he smiled teasingly at Ran, perfectly aware of how annoyed the novelist was becoming. If he was searching for empty compliments, he sure wouldn't get them from Ken. He was known to be brutally honest to a fault.  

Ran ceased his doodling, pointing menacingly at Ken with the tip of his pen. "Let's get one thing perfectly clear, Hidaka-"

Ken shook his head, frowning. "I already told you, it's just Ken," he interrupted. "Let's get **that** perfectly clear."

Ran was rapidly losing patience and his sense of humor with the man, not that he had much of a sense of humor in the first place. By calling Ken by his surname, he found it gave him a feeling of distance between them. If he had to resort to calling him "Ken," he was afraid it would bring a sense of familiarity, something he was trying to avoid above all. Ken was already much too friendly and open for Ran's likings, and he was hoping to maintain a strictly professional relationship between him and the screenwriter. The last thing Ran needed in his life was a new acquaintance, friend. Ken's persistence in calling him by his first name was not helping the cause.

However, he had a strong inclination that arguing with Ken would just lead to frustration and anger. He already got the impression that Ken was the stubborn type. Yet, so was he, himself. Ran didn't want to lock horns so early in the week, so it was better just to appease the other man and be done with it.

"OK, Ken-" he gritted out.

"See? Isn't that much better?" Ken grinned amiably.

Ran resisted the urge to growl. Better? He didn't think so. It was fairly obvious that Ken was the type who if given an inch, took a mile.

And probably built a condo on it.

"Better," he regarded Ken's smiling face with distaste, "would be if this terrible nightmare was over, and I was back in my den, **alone, writing on a new book," he said cynically, hoping to put Ken in his place.**

"If I didn't know you better, Ran, I would swear you didn't like me," he huffed, managing to maintain a straight face.

Ran stood abruptly, towering over Ken ominously. "You **don't know me," he said looking down at Ken over his nose.**

Ken's face fell slack, his eyes suddenly appearing soft and luminous as he gazed up at Ran. Ran blinked, noticing for the first time how utterly deep and soul-searching Ken's eyes appeared. It was as if Ken could see inside him merely at will. The sheer thought of it was enough to make Ran take an unconscious, retreating step backwards.

"But I'd like to," Ken said softly, all smiles and guises broken.

For some reason, Ran thought it to be the first serious thing Ken had spoken since they met.

Ken blinked, and it was as if the spell was broken. Ran shook his head slightly, rattling his brain back into motion. What was he thinking? Ken actually wanting to get to know him? Ridiculous.

Ran eased back down onto the edge of the couch, his initial point remembered. "I don't want the dialogue tampered with. Or any other part of the book, for that matter," he said staring blankly at the empty fireplace on the wall in front of him.

Ken raised his finger in the air, "I don't tamper, I temper." He stressed the last word slowly.

Ran's shoulders slumped, his face falling into his hands. "Are you a plague from God?" His voice was strained and muffled from between long fingers.

Ken opened his mouth, fully ready to retort, when he was interrupted by the sound of car doors outside.

Ran's hands fell, his face turning upward. "Maybe God's not against me after all."

Ken rolled his eyes at the over dramatics. "Does someone else live here?" He folded up his laptop and sat it on the coffee table.

Ran watched Ken stretch lazily, his arms reaching high above his head as his back arched off the chair. Ken's body-clinging shirt rose slightly, a fraction of taut, defined abdominal muscles peeking out. 

So Ken worked out. 

A cut ridge that ran along Ken's hips slipped into view.

Frequently worked out.

Ran blinked, turning away before he could fully realize what he had just been doing. Ken's question finally reached his brain.

"No." Then he re-thought the question. "Yes."

"Either someone else lives here or they don't, Ran. It can't be both." Ken reached back behind himself, rubbing at the back of his neck to work out the kinks.

"I know that," Ran bristled. He had just temporarily forgotten about his sister. He wasn't quite used to the new… arrangements.

"Afraid of being embarrassed by your live-in girlfriend?" Ken teased, raising an eyebrow suggestively. He thought it could very well be true. After all, he didn't really know Ran's marital status.

Ran's reply died out before it could be voiced as the front door swished open, revealing a dark-haired young girl and a blue-eyed man behind her.

Ken turned in his chair to get a better look. It was the girl from the newspaper clipping!

"It looked like rain," the man behind her said as he ushered her through the door, "so we decided to leave the park early." The man, who Ken thought didn't look much over nineteen, began slipping the little girl out of her coat, seemingly unaware that there was a visitor in the house. "She said she wasn't hungry and didn't want to stop for ice cream."

"No ice cream?" Ken said leaning over the back of the armchair. 

The little girl's eyes darted up, suddenly aware of the new comer. Her eyes were hollow, Ken thought, and her face the perfect picture of sadness. He smiled sweetly at her, hoping she would smile back. No such luck.

"Hello," the man behind her said slowly, hanging her coat in the closet. His voice was serene and melodic, his eyes large and expressive.

"Hi," Ken said back, rising from the chair to greet them at the door. He heard Ran sigh behind him and the sound of his feet shuffling against the floor as he trailed behind.

"Hidaka Ken." Ken extended his hand to the other man. 

"Tsukiyono Omi," he said warmly, shaking Ken's hand with a broad, friendly smile. 

Ken squatted down in front of the girl, tilting his head with an open grin. "And who is this pretty young lady who didn't want ice cream?" 

The girl briefly peeked over Ken's shoulder, probably at Ran, and then looked down shyly. "Aya," she said quietly, wringing her hands in front of her nervously.

"Nice to meet you, Aya." Ken held out his hand to her in the same fashion he had Omi. He learned long ago it made children feel good to be treated like grown-ups now and then.

Aya stared at Ken's large hand, slowly rising her arm to shake it, her little palm fitting delicately inside his grasp. "Nice to meet you," she echoed with a soft voice, seemingly wary of the situation. 

Ken held on to her hand, his fingers slipping around her wrist in a loose hold. "Do you not like ice cream, Aya?" 

"It's… I wasn't hungry," she reiterated Omi's earlier statement, her eyes peeking at Ken from underneath her fringe of hair.

"Aya," Ran finally spoke up from behind Ken, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. "You can't keep skipping meals. It's not healthy." 

The girl's head drooped ashamedly, turning away from Ran.

Ken glanced briefly over his shoulder up at Ran, then turned back to Aya, his thumb rubbing soothing circles over her pulse.

"Maybe it's too cold for ice cream, right Aya?" She turned back to Ken, her free hand reaching up to tug anxiously on her braid. "What's your favorite food?" Ken said tenderly, hoping he was going in the right direction with his questions.

"Pizza," Aya said a little louder than before.

"Oh, American food, huh? You know what, Aya?" Ken said, leaning in to the girl as if he was divulging the most well-kept secret of the century. She shook her head, eyes slowly becoming alight with a child's interest.

"I make the best pizza in Tokyo," Ken said softly, nodding his head to emphasize his words. The little girl's eyebrows instantly rose, her curiosity piqued. 

"Really?"

"Really," he agreed. "And I'll make a deal with you," he stood slowly, still holding the girl's tiny hand within his tanned fingers.

"If you go in there," Ken tilted his head towards the entrance to the kitchen, "and let Ran or Omi fix you some lunch, and you eat every bite, I promise to make a pizza for you sometime this week."

Aya smiled genuinely, and Ken almost missed the gasp that came from Ran's mouth behind him.

"Promise?" She said, tugging on Ken's pinky finger.

"Promise." He tugged back. "But you have to eat every, single bite. No cheating," he playfully tapped the end of her nose with the tip of his finger.

"OK," she approved, her smile still in place. Aya's fingers latched onto the hem of Omi's shirt, pulling him off in the direction of the kitchen. Omi, looking quite shaken, looked over his shoulder for his entire trek across the living room, his eyes huge and surprised as he glanced back at Ken.

Ken, looking like the cat who caught the canary, turned to Ran, wondering why he, too, had a similar look of astonishment across his face.

Ran blinked, seeming as though he was looking through Ken and out into an unknown void. "She hasn't smiled since…" Ran blinked again, his eyebrows rising another notch as he turned his gaze to Ken. "And you got her to eat…" he murmured, still feeling a bit disorientated.

Ken shrugged, walking back towards the furniture. "You act like it's hard or something," he said, flicking some hair out of his eyes with a chesire grin.

Ran stared at the place where Aya had previously stood, his insides turning and fluttering with a strange feeling.

Just who was Hidaka Ken?

--------------------------------------

"Thank you," Ken said, taking his tea from Omi.

"So," Omi started, leaning in over the kitchen counter towards Ken's direction, "how are you putting up with the Ice Prince?"

Ken almost sputtered in mid-sip. "Ice Prince? Aren't you his boyfriend?"

Omi rocked back on his heels, his eyes as large as saucers. "Boyfriend?!" He squeaked, his voice rising three octaves and almost causing Ken to drop his teacup. 

"I'll take that as a no," Ken said, free hand rubbing at his assaulted ear.

Omi smiled apologetically, "Sorry. It's just that… what gave you that idea?"

Ken shrugged, scooting his stool closer in to the counter. "I just figured, since you were watching Aya, and didn't knock when you entered…"

Omi rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Aya isn't our kid or anything like that." He walked across the kitchen, opening a cabinet up high. "I'm the nanny so to speak. I just take care of her for Ran." Omi rose to his tiptoes, searching far back in the cubboard.

"Oh, I see."

"Aya's his little sister," he said in between pushing and shoving things around on the shelf. 

Ken had figured that much from the newspaper clipping, but it was relieving to finally have it confirmed. He figured he would have to put the rest of the puzzle pieces that was Fujimiya Ran together by himself.

Omi's hand finally emerged, brandishing a yellow box of Pocky. He pulled out a stick, shoving it in between his lips.

"Want some?" He said around the stick.

Ken made a face. "No thanks. Almond is not my flavor."

Omi closed up the box, returning it to the cabinet. "He keeps chocolate and strawberry up here, too."

Ken raised his hand, declining, "I'm fine. Really."

"Suit yourself." Omi shut the cupboard door, walking over to where Ken sat to pull up a stool.

"How do you know Ran," Ken questioned in between sips of tea. He found it strange that someone like Ran closely associated with someone like Omi. They seemed complete opposites- residing on two different levels. And besides that, Omi seemed a little young, not just on the outside.

"I met him through Youji."

"Kudou?" Ken blinked, staring at Omi over the rim of his cup. He frowned. Something was nagging at the back of his mind…

"Yea, Ran and I met at one of his book-" Omi was cut off by Ken's sudden laughter. "What?" He said, his eyebrow arching as Ken held his side and giggled. His amusement started to roll out in waves as he teetered dangerously upon the wooden stool.

"You…" Ken tried to say in between gulps of air, "you're Omittchi!" He burst out in laughter again, his forehead resting against the counter as he slumped forward.

Omi looked around frantically, making sure Ran hadn't returned from tucking Aya in for a nap. "Shhh! Do you want Ran to hear you?!" He lightly smacked Ken on the arm.

Ken's breaths came in big heaves. "Ran… doesn't know?"

"No…" Omi looked over his shoulder one last time, paranoid. "Wait a minute, how do **you know?" **

"I overheard Youji on the phone one day when he called me to his office." Ken wiped away the tears of laughter that had collected in the corner of his eyes. "He's so sweet to you… Omittchi." Ken snorted, trying hard to restrain the giggles from erupting again.

Omi blushed, his eyes darting downward in embarrassment. "Why is it so funny?"

Ken smiled, "Sorry. It's just, I would have never guessed. No offense, but I wouldn't have taken you for Youji's type. Not to mention I didn't know he was gay."

"Bi," Omi corrected, pulling at his sleeves anxiously, stretching them over his hands. 

Ken hiccupped a large breath, wrapping his arm around Omi's shoulders. He leaned in close. "So why can't Ran know?"

"Well," Omi leaned in, too, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I don't really know what Ran thinks of… those sorts of relationships. And I don't want to give him a reason for me to not see Aya-chan. Ran really needs me right now."

Ken put that away for further investigation. Why didn't Ran take care of his sister himself? And why did Ran "really need" Omi's help?

"So what you're saying, is that Ran may be a gay-basher?" Ken questioned softly.

Omi leaned back, propping his elbow on the counter and resting his chin in the palm of his hand. "I don't know about that, but he's straight."

Ken picked his teacup back up, gulping down the last bit. "That's funny. I would have guessed more along the lines of asexual."

It was Omi's turn to have a giggle fit.  

--------------------------------------

Ken stood beside the window, watching as Omi car pulled out of the drive.

"I like him," he said idly, knowing that Ran could hear him from the couch.

"He likes you, too," Ran replied dryly. "Apparently **everyone** likes you."

Ken turned away from the glass as Omi's car disappeared down the road, his arms coming up to cross his chest.

"And just what is that supposed to mean?"

Ran snorted. "Nothing." He reached over to the coffee table, retrieving his pen and notepad to start scribbling again.

"For your sake I hope you weren't lying to my sister. She really thought you were serious." He said it so matter-of-factly, like he could have been commenting on the weather rather than throwing out the hidden threat that laid within.

Ken straightened, his chin rising defiantly. "I **was telling the truth. And you're welcome."**

Ran's fingers began to grip the pen so tightly they started to blanch white. "I don't need your help, Ken. I can handle myself just fine."

"But can you handle your sister, too?" Ken countered in a low, menacing voice. If he had been a cat, his fur would have been standing on end. Ken hated innocent by-standers, especially children.

Ran jerked his body upright, the pen and pad flying across the room. In a flash he was at Ken's side, the front of his thin shirt bunched within Ran's shaking fingers. 

"Dangerous ground, Hidaka," he said in between clenched teeth, his face so close Ken could feel his ragged breathing puffing against his cheek.

Ken just smirked, his head tilting a little. "Dangerous for me, or dangerous for you?" He questioned, and Ran's eyes narrowed to mere slits of angry violet.

A low growl rumbled from deep within Ran's chest, the fingers on his free hand twitching in anticipation of striking Ken right across his smiling face. Only... for some reason, he found he couldn't bring himself to do it. And if he needed any further convincing, the strong pectoral muscles beneath the hand on Ken's chest twitched as they were drawn tight, reminding Ran off just how much power was probably laced within Ken's body.

"Ch'" Ran released the front of Ken's shirt, his eyes closing in an attempt to calm his body. 

Ken leaned in even closer, absorbing the few inches of space that was left between them. His hand trailed upward, tugging lightly on one of Ran's eartails. 

"Is this the part where we kiss and make up?" Ken batted his eyelashes playfully.

Ran opened one eye, staring cautiously at Ken to make sure he wasn't serious. "Why can't you just let me hate you in peace," Ran murmured, frowning.

Ken laughed, tapping Ran's nose like he did Aya's earlier as he stepped away. "I think that's enough excitement for today. I don't think any more work is going to get done on the screenplay if I stick around longer."

Ran's body sagged in relief. Finally.

Ken picked up his laptop and folders, already making his way towards the door. "Same time tomorrow?" He began slipping into his shoes.

Ran waved his hand, making his way to the couch and flopping down with mental exhaustion. "Whatever," he said tiredly, flinging his arm over his face.

"Aw, does poor Ranny need a nap?"

Ken shut the door a millisecond before he was pelted with a couch cushion. 

-------------------------------------------TBC-------------------------------------------

Yes, I consider pizza to be an Americanized food, even though it's from Italy. -_-;  I know these first few chapters have been nothing but a bunch of dialogue, but without it you wouldn't know anything about the characters. Just be patient for me while I set up the stage ^_^ Once again, my beta is on vacation so excuse the grammatical errors.


	4. Chapter Three

**Important author note:**

I recommend downloading the song "Rain" by Yoko Kanno before reading this chapter. If you play the music while you read, it gives you the overall feeling of darkness and depression that I'm trying to convey in this installment. Not to mention, it's really a very nice piece (in my opinion). It really makes you feel for Ken and wonder what he really went through to make him act the way he does. You may also find the song under Steve Conte or Cowboy Bebop.

**Against All Odds**

**Chapter Three******

-------------------------------------------------

 Musical interlude to Ken's past…

"I don't feel a thing

And I stopped remembering

Days are just like moments turned to hours

Mother used to say

If you want, you'll find a way

But Mother never danced through fire showers

I don't hear a sound

Silent faces in the ground

The quiet screams, but I refuse to listen

If there is a Hell

I'm sure this is how it smells

Wish this were a dream, but no, it isn't

Walk in the rain, in the rain, in the rain

I walk in the rain, in the rain

Why do I feel so alone

For some reason I think of home

Am I right or am I wrong

And is it here that I belong"

-------------------------------------------------

It was raining…

The city was desolate, morbid, blanketed in shadows of eclipsing black. A thick, muggy steam was rolling off the streets, twirling and dancing across the sidewalks. Silence, an eerie silence, was reigning over the usually lively town, his footsteps echoing through the dead quiet.

Eyes, hollow and empty, were trained squarely ahead. The rain fell like needles against his skin, a faint red beginning to bloom on the surface of his face. A duffel bag hung limply from one shoulder- the mass of it beating angrily at the backs of his knees as he walked- and a soccer ball lodged firmly underneath his other arm. The water pelted hard upon the shape, creating an almost melodic singsong of thumps and thuds.

The streets were barren, water rushing quickly through the gutters. Buildings were completely darkened, looming over his drenched form ominously. He felt as if spirits and shades were passing him in the dark, the ever present feeling of being watched. Though, no one was there but him. Alone. 

The city was dead.

Dead.

The view before him began to twist and melt, the sidewalks morphing into more familiar territory. Without pause, he continued to walk through the rain, his feet splashing loudly through the puddles as the world around him shifted. 

The black melted and diffused, dripping away to reveal another part of the city. Apartment complexes and homely shops replaced the towering buildings. 

As he had done so many times in the past, his feet carried him to a quaint shop by sheer routine. His silent figure passed by the large glass window, his mirror self mimicking his movements and taunting him with the same vacant eyes. Lightning flashed, and for a brief second the word Koneko was illuminated upon the window.

As he reached for the door, a sickening bitter scent filled his nose, the smell so familiar… yet so out of place. Tanned, wet fingers pushed gingerly at the slightly ajar door, the hinges creaking as it slowly crept open. He took one step inside…

BANG!!!!!

A second later lightning and thunder pierced the sky, revealing a mere glimpse of Ken's horrified features, rivulets of blood running down his face, tingeing with the water as it streamlined down his dark skin…  

"NO!" Ken bolted upright, flinging the sheets from his sweat soaked body. His breathing was strained, gasping for huge intakes of air, body quivering mercilessly.

With shaky hands, Ken reached upward, swiping at his wet face. Slowly, he withdrew his fingers, staring with frightened eyes down at the clear liquid that covered his hands.

"Just… just sweat," he whispered to himself, his body continuing to betray him as it quaked upon the bed. Ken clenched and unclenched his hands, turning them over and back again. Looking for the blood… the blood that should have been there. 

A small droplet of sweat rolled off his nose, pinging onto the sheet like a raindrop.

-------------------------------------------------

"Fujimiya," Ran glanced at the kitchen microwave clock. Seven fifteen A.M. He agitatedly rubbed at his eyes, brushing his matted hair out of his face. He had been having the best dream about… What had it been about again…?

Hearing nothing, he withdrew the phone from his ear, making sure he hadn't accidentally pushed the off button in his morning haze. "Hello?" he said after there was no answer on the other end of the line. Who would be calling this early? He really didn't have time for prank callers.

"Ran…" a strained voice finally cracked out. So soft and frail, that it was almost lost over the buzzing of Ran's refrigerator ice maker. 

"Hidaka?" It couldn't be, Ran thought, not this person. This voice was timid and broken, so different from the Ken he had been subject to before. But that smooth timbre… Ken had a voice that, no matter what state it was in, could easily be recognized. 

"I… won't be coming over today, Ran."

Ran frowned at the phone as if the person on the other end could see him. "And why not?"

There was a pause, a peculiar hesitation, and Ran briefly thought that Ken had hung up the phone.

"I'm not feeling so well," he said quietly, his voice dampening on the last word.

Ran's eyebrow rose slowly. For some reason, he had immediately taken Ken for the ultimately healthy type. If not from anything else, Ken's state of body had given him that impression. The thought of him ever being sick enough to decline human interaction seemed very odd.

Was this the same Ken that had plagued his existence for the last two days? The same Ken that was too energetic to sit still for longer than five minutes? The same one… that had made his sister smile?

"Are you…" Ran cleared his throat, starting over. "Are you going to see a doctor?" He hoped he didn't sound too concerned. After all, he didn't really care one way or another how "well" Ken was feeling. It was just that this sudden development put a bump in his plans. Ran was a very precise man, especially when it came to business arrangements. And he and Ken had a deal. There was no way he was adding on an extra day to the agreed week to compensate for Ken's… sick day.

"I'll be fine," Ken replied in clipped tones.

Ran blinked, taken aback that Ken didn't have the usual smart aleck reply. Something along the lines of, "Oh Ran, you do care about me! How sweet!" Ran smirked at that thought. Yes, that would be more like the Ken he had met.

"Will you be coming tomorrow then? You know a week passes very quickly, Ken, and you still haven't convinced me this is all worth it."

As soon as it left his mouth, Ran silently cursed in his head. Why, of all times, was he bringing that up now? Shouldn't he be enthralled at the fact that he got to spend his day Ken-free, and that the interruption could very easily put a halt to the movie production? It was just too early. He wasn't thinking properly.

Yes, that was it.

All the more reason to be angry with Ken. He **had woken Ran up, hadn't he?**

"I… of course I will, Ran," Ken said, feigning his old cheer and high spirits. He sounded like a mere shell of himself, the words practiced and précised. 

"Be sure you're here on ti-" Ran didn't even get to finish his sentence. 

He was cut off by the faint click of Ken hanging up. 

-------------------------------------------------

Ken looked grimly at the phone as he placed it back in the cradle. Sighing, he turned sharply, intent on going back to bed. His feet scooted noiselessly against the floor, keeping care not to wake the large dog sleeping on his couch. 

There was a heaviness in his body, a sorrow he hadn't relived in many years. It was seeping through his veins, running cold to the very core of his being and shooting out as far as his fingertips. Something dark and shadowy was trying to creep into his mind, a feeling he could remember quite well. 

Ken shook his head violently, making a detour for the bathroom instead. 

He softly closed the door behind him, reaching out to turn the cold water on in the sink. Ken leaned over the tap, gripping the edges of the white porcelain with white fingers. The water swirled around and around, running down the pipes with a sickening slurp-like noise. Momentarily, he became lost in time, the seconds ticking by even though he felt frozen in time. Frozen forever in a moment he couldn't change…

Ken made a choking sound deep within his throat, hands diving under the flow of the water. He leaned in further, splashing a large scoop upon his face. He hung there, watching with morbid fascination as the water droplets fell from his face and back into the gurgle of the plumbing. 

Ken rose, staring at himself in the mirror.

"I've got to get out of here," his mirror reflection mimicked back at him.

-------------------------------------------------

Ran stepped out of the café, tugging the collar of his leather trench coat closely around his chin.

He  glanced up at the darkening sky, thinking it might rain soon. It was beginning to get cold, he mused to himself. Soon, fall would be over and the harsh hands of winter would take hold. Ran didn't mind winter, really. Most people found it depressing and morose, a time when everything would wither and die. 

Ran, however, saw it differently.

With winter usually came snow, and Ran found snow to be one of the purest things on Earth. Sure, not literally. He knew just as well as the next that the snow these days had become slightly tinged with pollutants and chemicals from the things mankind put in the atmosphere. But, the purity ran much deeper than that.

It was a basic, childlike purity. It gave him the feeling of being clean, reborn. The thrill of childhood memories was always replenished with a snowfall- a time when everything in life was simple and understood. It was a time when your biggest concern was catching cooties, and the largest problem you had to solve was strawberry or cherry flavored candy. It was an era in life when he didn't have to worry about money, society, and… Ran looked back over his shoulder as Aya sat gloomily inside the café beside Omi, playing in her soup with her spoon...

And Aya…

Ran sighed, stepping out onto the crowd to take that walk he told Omi he needed after their lunch. His feet began to glide him to an unknown destination.

Ran didn't understand why he had to be the one, really. Well, it was pure logic for the social services to deem that since he was the closest kin, he would take custody of Aya. Only, the social services really didn't know him, Aya, or the relationship between the two. To say that Ran was really "next of kin" was damn near laughable.

Ran had barely known his parents, much less Aya. And he was positive no matter how he acted towards the child, she would continue to resent being dumped on his doorstep. Ran scowled, stuffing his hands deeply into his coat pockets. Well, it wasn't like **he wanted her dumped on his doorstep either.**

She didn't understand Ran, or his reasons for acting the way he did. Hell, he couldn't even claim to understand her. They had really grown up under different circumstances. Aya, having been born much later and being the little girl of the family, had really had a chance to get to know their parents and live a pleasant, likeable life.

Ran couldn't really say that his life hadn't been likeable, too, up until recently that was. But the fact still remained that by the time he had returned from America, he felt like a stranger in his own household. He had barely known his mother and father when he left, and upon his arrival back a new face had taken his place- Aya.

Ran's steps began to slow as the crowds became thinner, his footsteps taking him to a quieter part of the city.

To be honest he wasn't quite sure if he really resented Aya for it, or if he was simply rolling in self-pity. It wasn't like it was her fault, but still… he felt utterly gypped.

Ran kicked at a pebble in the sidewalk, glancing up as it ricocheted off of the metal leg of a rest bench. He strode over, sitting warily down on the cold wood.

He really didn't know what to do, who to turn to. Omi was helping to take as much of the load as he could, but there was only so much the other man could do. He may be better with children than Ran was, but Aya still didn't seem to be opening up. He knew that inside that quiet, somber child was a waterfall of grief, ready to break loose over the dam. And Ran also knew that when that dam broke, he would have no idea how to patch it up.

Ran looked up, distracted as he heard a funny "ping" noise in the distance. He shrugged. Ran sunk further into the bench, gazing at two little boys playing Frisbee to his right.

And then there was his other, newer problem- the movie deal. With Aya's arrival, he couldn't deny he really needed the money. But it seemed such a high price to pay. Ran's heart and soul went into his books, that particular one especially. He drew upon his own life experiences, and some of the characters were even people he had actually met and knew along the way. It was a part of him, a very important part. 

Another "ping" followed by a few shorter "pungs" echoed. He looked about, seeing if anything within eyesight could be identified as the source of the noises.

Ran was also a little afraid, he could admit to himself. If he put the most private, intimate moments of his life up on a screen, how would people react? Sure, the book had gone over nicely. More than nicely. He was currently holding number one in book sales for the past year. But… he supposed it was just different to actually **see** his life being relived through real-life people. Would he be able to take it if people rejected his… his life?

An even louder "ping" answered his question.

Ran rose from the bench, his curiosity finally getting the better of him. He started walking in the direction he thought the funny noises were coming from. Trailing up a small hill, the wind flared his coat out behind him, fluttering against the backs of his legs. And as he reached the top, a field began to peek into view. No, not just a field, Ran mused as he walked up on the back up of a familiar looking net. A soccer field.

It was relatively empty around the field, only a few strollers walking along the sidelines and one person down on the far end standing straight and tall.

Ran leaned casually against the goal post, watching the back of the man as he bounced a ball across his knees. 

His body movements, Ran realized, were almost poetic. They were smooth and gliding, his limbs flowing with a natural grace and beauty. The ball bounced from knee, to head, to ankle, and back to knee, with such ease that it looked as though it were a mere extension of his body. 

Ran tilted his head in interest as a slight wind blew across the field, its gentle fingers running over the soccer player's hair and clothing. Ran frowned. At first glance he hadn't noticed the man was clothed in only a white shirt and long, white shorts. He was surely getting cold if he had worked up a sweat.

Then, with amazing speed, the player bumped the ball off of his head and high into the air. As it began to drop, he leaped into the air, his body turning as if he were going to perform a backflip. His leg extended high above his head, kicking the ball backwards towards Ran with a loud "ping."

The player landed hard on his back with a thud even Ran could hear on the other side of the quiet field. He lay there, seemingly dead except for the avid rise and fall of his chest. Ran blinked as the ball finally lost momentum, rolling to a stop a few yards in front of him and the goal.

The man continued to lay there, his limbs spread out over the cool grass. Without thinking about his actions, Ran closed the small distance between him and the ball, leaning over and grasping it. He rose, studying the grass stains with curious eyes. 

A movement caught Ran's eye, and he looked over to the player as he rolled over onto his stomach. The soccer player propped his upper body up by his elbows as he prepared to stand, his dark head rising into view. Ran couldn't stop the small intake of air that passed across his lips as he finally gazed upon the man's face.

Mahogany met violet, the familiar set of eyes staring blankly back at Ran. 

-------------------------------------------------

"Omi-kun," the little girl said, swirling the ice in her tea with a bright, red straw. 

"Yes?" He smiled pleasantly down at the child.

"Do you think my brother hates me?" Aya questioned quietly.

Omi blinked, taken aback. "What makes you ask that, Aya-chan?" 

The young girl shrugged her tiny shoulders, staring blankly at the swirls of brown she was creating in between the cubes. "I dunno." 

Omi sighed, putting his arm around her waist, drawing her tightly to his form in what he hoped was a comforting manner. "Ran's just going through a tough time, but that doesn't mean he hates you." Omi squeezed her in a half-hug. "He just needs… how do I put this… something to open his eyes."

Aya peeked up at Omi, her lips pursing in a thoughtful look. "What do you think will do that?"

-------------------------------------------------

"Ken," Ran murmured into the wind, gazing at the man on the ground only a short walk away.

Ken blinked back at Ran as if he were sorely out of place, as if the next blink would make him disappear, and everything would make sense again. However, when he didn't disappear, Ran watched as Ken shook his head slightly, rising the rest of the way off of the ground.

With long, purposeful strides, Ken began to breech the distance separating them. His hair tousling in the wind and his bright, white clothing offset against the green field. For some strange reason, Ran's pulse began to quicken with each step, his heart beating a rabid dance against his chest. 

When only a few mere feet lay between the two, Ken extended his hand, palm up, towards Ran. 

Ran blinked at the limb, still a little disorientated.

"My ball," Ken said firmly, breaking Ran out of his trance. He had forgotten it was still gripped within his hands.

Ran snorted, tucking the ball underneath his arm instead. "This is your idea of sick?" He said acidly.

Ken's arm fell, his eyes not failing to give away his weariness. "Ran, please. I really can't deal with your 'stick up my ass' attitude today. Now may I have my ball back?"

Ran's chin rose defiantly into the air. So, that was how Ken really saw him? Just a pain in the ass? Ran was about to retort with something nasty when a small voice in the back of his head said that he **was a pain in the ass.**

Ran's chin fell, his eyes growing softer by a tiny margin. "I'll carry it," he said sternly, hoping Ken would be able to hear the unvoiced "you look tired" behind it. If Ken really could read him as well as Ran thought he could, he knew Ken would understand.

Ken shifted his weight to his left foot, frowning slightly. "I'm not ready to leave yet, Ran."

Ah, so he did understand. Ran gave him a slow, deliberate look down from top to bottom, making sure Ken took notice. "Yes you are. You're drenched in sweat, and if you weren't sick before, you will be soon if you stay out here."

Ken's body sagged faintly, much too tired for verbal sparring. "Let me get my bag," Ken murmured, eyes darting about as if somehow ashamed by Ran's presence. 

Ran followed Ken over to some small, wooden bleachers, watching as the man began to dig deep within a duffel bag. Gone were the graceful movements Ran had viewed only minutes earlier, replaced by a manner that seemed weak, agitated, and so… un-Ken like.

But then, how well did he know Ken anyhow?

Ken plopped down on a bleacher, removing his cleats and lacing up a pair of tennis shoes in their place. He pulled out a pair of white sports pants with snap buttons down the sides of the legs, pulling them on over his shorts. After stuffing the cleats back inside the bag, he motioned for Ran to toss him the ball, it following inside with the cleats. He zipped all of it up, standing and pulling the duffel bag up on his shoulder.

Ran reached out, taking hold of the strap, "I said I would carry it."

Ken stared at him a moment, an internal battle waging within him on whether or not to argue the point. Finally, he shrugged, handing the bag over to Ran. He pulled it over his leather trench coat, motioning for Ken to follow him as they began their trek out of the park.

"Where are we going?" Ken questioned softly after a few minutes of mind-numbing silence.

"To meet my sister and Omi at the café," Aya said simply.

A loud crack boomed overhead, and suddenly Aya's earlier prediction came true as the Heaven's started spewing forth rain. Ken sighed heavily. 

Ran glanced at Ken out of the corner of his eyes, the man's white shirt slowly melting to his lithe form.

"I hate walking in the rain," Ken muttered, his body racking with a slight shiver.

Ran slipped the duffel bag off his shoulder, removing the coat from his lean shoulders. He reached over, placing it on Ken's back and re-shouldering the duffel bag. His heavy slacks and thick sweater were enough to keep him warm and relatively dry.

"Me, too," Ran agreed, hoping to snuff out any questions Ken would have about his small gesture of kindness.

Ken wrapped the coat tighter about his shoulders, inhaling a sweet, pleasant cologne.

The rest of the walk towards the café was made in total silence.  

-------------------------------------------------TBC-------------------------------------------------

Did anyone get the part about Ken wearing all white when Ran saw him, and he had been talking about the purity of snow earlier? Or, if you downloaded the song, how Ken says, "I hate walking in the rain"? I like to put a lot of symbolism in my stories, but most of the time no one catches it ^_^

Well, now we know somewhat more of Ran's past, and we're left going "poor Kenken!" even though we don't exactly yet know what happened to him. It was pretty bad, I'm sure you deduced. The lyrics in the interlude really give away what happened to Ken, but you can't really piece it together yet. Not enough info has been given.

Sorry again for grammatical errors/typos. Patiently awaiting my beta's return. Oh and, soak up these quick chapter installments while you can. I have to start working on a fanart commission soon, so they won't be as frequent.

*faints* I got a review from Deena! Her and Seph are my two all-time fav WK authors, and now they've both admitted that they've read some of my jiz-unk. Excuse me while I do the hamster dance.


	5. Chapter Four

**Against All Odds**

**Chapter Four**

Aya hopped from leg to leg, her childlike impatience beginning to get the best of her. Omi watched as the quiet little girl stubbed the toe of her shoe repeatedly against the sidewalk, creating a makeshift sort of rhythm. She began to anxiously tug at her braids, softly humming a sweet melody in the back of her throat to accompany her tapping foot.

Omi still found it amazing that one so young could be so… depressed. Even now, as she displayed behavior of any normal eight year old girl, there was no denying the underlying note of somberness behind it all. The harmonious tune she hummed sounded terribly sad and mournful, and her movements seemed slow and sluggish. The child's eyes were dark and hollow, staring out blankly into an unseen void.

She looked like a porcelain doll, Omi mused, a broken one. With her pale skin, dark illustrious hair, and simple pleated dress, there was no denying she could easily become a model for a doll-maker.

Omi frowned. If not for ever present sadness, that statement would be true.

They were standing underneath the canopy outside the café, awaiting Ran's return. Omi had insisted that they wait inside at their table, but Aya had persisted that she wanted to step out onto the sidewalk to watch the rain. It was a notion Omi didn't quite understand. If he had been her, rain would have miserably reminded him of…

"You're getting wet," the girl's quiet murmur interrupted his thoughts.

Omi blinked, coming back into reality. "Huh?" he questioned dumbly, blinking again as a cold, wet droplet pelted him in between the eyes. 

Omi made a little sidestep, retreating from the rain gushing off the sides of the canopy. He hadn't realized that while lost in his thoughts, he had began to unconsciously gravitate to the right, the water running onto the top of his head and sprinkling on his shoulder.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" He grumbled, shaking the water out of his hair and brushing it off of his coat before it could have a chance to soak through.

Aya shrugged, standing on one foot and twirling in a small circle. "You looked… pre…occupipe," she said slowly, obviously vaguely aware of the meaning behind the word, even if she couldn't say it correctly.

"Preoccupied," Omi corrected, patting her fondly on the head. At least she hadn't lost all of her sense of innocence, he thought morbidly.

Omi lifted his wrist, checking his watch. "Where is that brother of yours?" He mumbled, becoming more miffed as the longer they were forced to await his return. "It's not like him to take so long."

Aya stuck her small fingers out from underneath the safety of the canopy, wiggling them in the small waterfall of rain. "Maybe he's not coming back for me," she said matter-of-factly, as if it wouldn't have surprised her to be the truth.

Omi frowned, staring out into the rainfall for traces of the redhead. "Don't be ridiculous Aya. I don't know what makes you say things like that," he said distractedly.

Omi tilted his head, watching as a tall silhouette suited in black and adorned with blazing red hair began to materialize through the rain. "There he is!" He declared in relief, letting loose a long pent up breath.

And then, another figure came into view. A man, about Ran's height, was walking a few steps behind Ran, though still somewhat side-by-side. A long, dark material hung from his shoulders, twisting and twirling as if the man was wearing a cape. It was strange, Omi thought, how the white clothing underneath stood so stark against the darkened back drop, that it almost gave the appearance that the rain drops were parting in his path. It looked… ethereal, almost otherworldly.

The man's dark head was hung low, and although he and Ran were not engaged in any conversation or even exchanging glances, Omi still had the impression that they were traveling together. 

"Ken," Aya murmured gently at Omi's side, her voice sounding airy and light. Omi had almost forgotten for a minute that she was there.

"Aya," he said, squatting down at her side. Omi pulled a handkerchief from his coat pocket, taking her tiny hands inside his own to wipe off the water. "Ken's at home sick. I already told you that this morning," he said shaking his head slightly.

Aya frowned, jerking her hands out of Omi's grasp. "It is, too, Ken," she said moodily, crossing her arms over her chest.

Sighing, Omi rose up and stuffed the cloth back into his pocket. There was no arguing with the girl. Omi had learned early on that she could be very stubborn, even more so than her brother at times.

As the two men drew closer, the rain began to lighten up and tiny hints of sunshine started to peek through the darkened sky. It also became obvious that they were both soaked to the bone, their hair and clothing molded against their bodies. Even from the short distance away, Omi could tell Ran looked very disgruntled and… Omi tilted his head in curiosity as he noticed the large duffel bag hanging from Ran's shoulder.

Ran, apparently noticing them both awaiting his arrival, began to pick up the pace, the man at his foot remaining in his slower, easy stride. Ran reached them in no time, huddling underneath the safety of the canopy.

He frowned, looking over Aya. "She should be inside. She could catch a cold out here."

Omi, distracted by the other man approaching slowly, just shrugged. "I told her that, too. But she wouldn't listen."

Aya, having not paid attention to a word they were saying, stepped over to the very edge of the canopy. Raising her tiny hands and cupping them around her mouth, she yelled to the stranger. "Hurry, up Ken!"

Omi sighed agitatedly, walking over and grasping the girl's wrist. "Aya-chan, that's not…" the man's head snapped up as he was called to. "…Ken," Omi finished in awe, instantly recognizing the man's facial features.

Ran, also in a daze but for other reasons, glanced down at his sister. Ever since she had arrived at his house, he had never heard her speak in tones above a murmur, much less call out to anyone. 

Ken began to jog, catching up to them in a matter of seconds. Omi watched curiously as Ken approached, taking note of the wary eyes and slumped posture. He looked fragile, ready to break upon the slightest impact. But as he got closer, something slipped over his face. The haggard look melted away, a more friendly and open demeanor taking over. However, even through the smile Omi could still barely see the traces of grief lingering in Ken's eyes.

The look before had been so strange, maybe even alien. Although he had only met Ken once, he instantly took him for one of those types that constantly remained happy- not a care in the world. To see him like that… well, it brought a chill down Omi's spine.

Ken stepped underneath the canopy, slipping out of Ran's leather coat and shaking off as much water as he could. 

"Nice to see you again, Ken," Omi said pleasantly, smiling all the while. 

"You, too," Ken replied, draping the wet coat over his arm. He bowed formally, swinging his free arm out to his side to give a dramatic flare. "And the fair lady," he said through a charming grin. The corners of Aya's mouth upturned slightly in response.

Omi realized, as his eyes began to sweep over Ken's frame, that it was almost impossible not to stare now that the long trench coat had been removed. Ken's clothing was mere flimsy white, having become translucent from the rain. Every ripple, every dip and curve, had become painfully obvious from the rain causing the thin material to cling greedily to his skin. The high definition in his abdomen was definitely the results of frequent work-outs, and even the whipcord muscle in his upper thighs was starting to show through as the water dripped off his torso and soaked through his athletic pants.

Beside him, Ran cleared his throat loudly, breaking Omi out of his silent reverie. Omi blinked owlishly, hoping Ran had been the only one to notice his staring. On another level he also hoped Ran had taken it for simple curiosity, Ran still not knowing about Youji and his sexual preferences.

Omi knelt down, grasping the lapels of Aya's coat and beginning to button it up. "Feeling better, I guess?" He questioned in between buttonholes.

Ken gave a quick sidelong glance at Ran, and Omi thought maybe Ken hadn't wanted him to know his personal business. 

"Yea," he answered simply. Ken rubbed the back of his neck as if unnerved. "I just needed some fresh air," he added after further deliberation.

Omi nodded, rising from finishing up Aya's coat. "Are we ready to go then?" he directed towards Ran.

Ran opened his mouth to answer, but was cut quick by Ken's curt reply. "After coffee." Ken inclined his head towards the café behind them, offering up his most appealing smile. His eyes flitted over to Ran, locking gazes briefly as if to challenging him to disagree.

Ran sighed. "After coffee," he echoed. He was not one to deny a hot drink when his own body was trying its best not to be racked by cold shivers.

"But you're both soaking," Omi said, raising an eyebrow.

"Ah," Ken raised his index finger into the air, "to go then. You and Aya don't have to wait around for us if you don't want. It **is getting pretty cold out here." Ken smiled slyly on the inside, wondering if his little ploy would work.**

Ran brightened at that comment, jumping aboard ship. "You take Aya home. I don't want her catching a cold," he said to Omi.

Omi crossed his arms over his chest, stealing a glance at Ken who immediately looked away innocently. "Then how will you get home?" he questioned, vaguely aware of why Ken had decided to play upon Ran's brotherly nature. It seemed the man was intent on getting Ran to finally crack the shell- even if that did mean spending time alone with the "Ice Prince" outside of a business setting.

"My ride is back at the park," Ken answered for Ran, smiling devilishly at Omi.

Omi merely shrugged, tightening his hold on Aya's tiny hand. "I'll stay with her at your house until you get back," he said to Ran, fishing his car keys out of his pocket. "Enjoy your…" he paused, eyeing Ken up and down very deliberately, "coffee."

The two watched Omi and Aya leave, filing into the crowd and sliding over the crosswalk. Aya's head turned back momentarily, and Ken waved jauntily to the young girl who merely ducked her head back against Omi's arm.

"Is there something you two aren't telling me?" Ran said quietly over Ken's shoulder, having apparently not missed the knowing looks between him and Omi. 

"You buying, or me?" Ken smiled, avoiding the question altogether.  

-------------------------------------------

They walked leisurely along the sidewalk back towards the park, steaming cups of coffee clutched within their cold fingers. Clothing was slowly beginning to dry, and the sun was trying its best to peak out from behind dense clouds. Ken's duffel bag still hung from Ran's shoulder, the wet trench coat having been draped on top of it.

Ran took a long sip, his chilled breath causing the steam to roll out over the cup's lid. "Omi was staring at you," he said conversationally in between sips.

Ken smiled lopsidedly, blowing a puff of air across the dark liquid in order to not scorch his tongue. "The real surprise is that **you** weren't staring at me," he said matter-of-factly.

Ran snorted, rolling his eyes. "You are beyond arrogant."

"It's called 'charming'," Ken attempted to correct him, idly stirring his coffee straw through the cloudy, thick drink.

"Besides," Ran said, absently frowning as a kid rushed past barely avoiding colliding with him, "you're most definitely not my type."

"Oh? What is your type then?" Ken inclined his head in curiosity, eyes sparkling with interest. 

"The gender without your particular," Ran eyed Ken's crotch disdainfully, "apparatuses. And someone much less smug," he added on a side note.

Ken laughed genuinely. "I don't believe you."

Ran arched one fine, red eyebrow. "I do too think you're smug."

Ken waved his hand in a round about matter. "No, no, I meant that you're preferences lie strictly in women. I don't believe that."

"Believe what you want," Ran said icily, eyebrows marring as he took another long drink of his coffee.

"I will," Ken replied with a show of straight, white teeth. "But let's say, hypothetically, that you did know someone involved in a same sex relationship. What would you think of them?"

Ran paused briefly in step, eyeing Ken dubiously.

"Hypothetically?"

"Yea," Ken agreed, laying his hand gently on Ran's back to softly push him back into step, his fingers splaying wide against the ripple and flow of Ran's sleek shoulder muscles.

"I'd have no problems with it," Ran answered earnestly, becoming slightly distracted by Ken's warm hand still upon his back.

"Even if it were someone very close to you?" 

"Personal matters are personal matters," Ran said, finishing up his last swallow of drink and tossing the empty cup into a waste receptacle as they passed. He peeked over at Ken, noticing his cup was still quite full. "Why do you ask?"

"Hypothetical questions are hypothetical questions," Ken replied, mocking Ran's earlier tone and doing his best 'stick up my ass' facial expression. 

"Hypothetically," Ran began, his voice dripping with acid, "how much longer do you think you can keep touching me before I remove your hand by force?"

Ken took his hand from Ran's back, laughing briskly. "Now I **know you can't be sure your sexual preference is women only. You probably have never gotten close enough to either gender to make a solid decision." Ken gravitated towards Ran, sneaking his hand up to tug gingerly at one flame colored ear-tail. "Sex requires touching," he whispered to Ran as if it was some great big secret that no one had ever let him in on.**

Ran shrugged off the hand, eyeing a food stand as they walked. "I'm perfectly capable of physical interaction," he retorted, highly doubting that what he had just seen could pass as actual food.

Ken took a huge sidestep, moving directly in Ran's path to face him. Ran stopped, crossing his arms agitatedly over his chest.

"Touch me," Ken ordered, his face full of seriousness.

Ran blinked, his stern face slipping a notch. "Wh… what?"

"Touch me," Ken repeated, his voice rising slightly over the bustle of passer-bys. 

Ran resisted the urge to blush as an older woman strolled past them, her face a mixture of surprise and embarrassment. Two teenage girls passed on his other side, whispering and giggling quietly at Ken's declaration.

Ran jerked a fierce hold on Ken's arm, dragging him further down the sidewalk with an angered and frustrated growl. "Are you aware of the concept of humility?" Ran hissed in Ken's ear, appalled at even the thought of… touching in public, much less Ken!

Ken chuckled off Ran's irritation, allowing himself to be ushered down the pavement. "Calm down, Ran. I didn't mean sexually."

Oh, he hadn't realized that. "That's not the point!" He grumbled back, determined to keep his annoyance in firm roots. "Do you think they knew that?" He indicated the passing people with a broad sweep of the arm not detaining his captive.

Ken titled his head cutely, smirking at the redhead. "You're embarrassed," it was more of a statement than a question.

Ran stopped abruptly, swinging Ken around to face him toe to toe. "You are incorrigible," he said grimly, his mouth dropping in a stern frown.

"Maybe," Ken smiled sweetly, "but at least I know you weren't lying about being able to physically interact," Ken's eyes darted down to the pale fingers still wrapped tightly around his wrist, the creamy skin tone looking offset against his tanned complexion.

Ran instantly jerked his hand away as if burned, bringing it upward to rub soothingly at his temples. "I swear you will be the death of me."

Ken turned on his feet and started back down the sidewalk towards the park. "But what a way to go!" he called back to Ran over his shoulder.   

-------------------------------------------

"This… is your ride?" 

"You ride it, don't you?" Ken retorted flipping up the seat on his motorcycle and digging around in the compartment underneath.

"I assumed you meant your car. The one you've been driving to my house."

Ken pulled out an extra helmet, tossing it to Ran whom caught it effortlessly. "You know what they say about assuming." Ken began to strap down the duffel bag with an elastic cord.

Ran frowned down at the helmet, seriously doubting Ken's brain capacity. "We're wet, Ken. We're going to freeze." And then there was the little matter of having to sit behind Ken, body to body, clinging tightly. But he chose to overlook that particular factor.

Ken shrugged, unlatching his own helmet from a safety cord designed to thwart off thieves. "My place isn't too far away. We'll stop by there and dry off, and then I'll take you straight to your house." Ken glanced at Ran's frowning face as he climbed atop the bike. "Problem solved," he said simply.

Ran doubted that. He swung his leg over the seat, climbing on behind Ken. The angle of the seat instantly caused him to slide forward, his chest pressing tightly against Ken's back. Taking a deep breath, he slipped on his helmet, the smell of vinyl and plastic filling his nose.

The engine came to life, the purr reverberating against Ran's chest. He sighed behind his visor, looking downward at how he was locked in place thigh to thigh against Ken. The world was against him, he just knew it.

"Relax," Ken said lightly, "I don't think one ride is enough to take away your resolve." He reached back, taking hold of Ran's hands and placing them firmly on his middle. "You are straight after all, remember?" Ken teased, slipping on his own helmet.

Ran didn't hear him. He was too distracted by how nice his hands felt on Ken's trim waist.  

-------------------------------------------

Ran was mildly surprised when they reached Ken's place. As exuberant as the other man was, he would have guessed Ken's house would be somewhere inside town, surrounded by other people and the interaction he so obviously craved. However, his place was in a quiet little district, the houses scattered far apart enough that each occupant had nice sized yards, and something that could pass as privacy in Tokyo. 

As they pulled into the drive, he did a quick survey of the house. It was quite tall, though not very wide, and two floors high. Definitely very large for one person, and Ran figured Ken must be doing something right to have the money to afford the place.

Ken pushed a button on his keychain, the garage door slowly coming to life. He coasted the bike inside, the engine dying out and the stand coming down. 

Ran climbed off first, removing his helmet and shaking his hair back into place. There were two other motorcycles in the garage and the car he had seen Ken bring to his house. Ken took the helmet from Ran's hands, unlocking the compartment and stuffing it back inside. Then he untied the duffel bag, swinging it across his shoulder.

"It's the feeling I get from it," Ken said as he noticed Ran staring at his other bikes. "I don't think you would understand."

"Hn," Ran grunted in response, turning to follow Ken inside the house. He fiddled with the keys before it finally clicked unlocked.

"I'm home!" Ken called out, swinging the door open dramatically.

Ran raised his eyebrow, glancing over Ken's shoulder into the living room. Maybe he had been wrong about the place being too large for one person. Perhaps Ken shared it with another.

Before he could open his mouth to voice his query, a large mass of fur bolted from the hallway, torpedoing straight at Ken and knocking him backwards. Ran barely managed to grab hold of Ken's upper arms and lodge him upright before Ken fell backwards onto him. 

"Gypsy! Down girl!" Ken grabbed the golden retrievers collar, pulling her away from the doorway before she could tackle Ran as well. "Sorry," he said, kneeling down to scratch her head, "She gets kind of excited when I have company."

Ran eyed the dog warily, Ken's firm grip on the collar the only obstacle keeping him from death by saliva. "Indeed," he said dryly, watching the interaction between master and pet.

When the dog had calmed somewhat, Ken relinquished hold, allowing her to softly pad to Ran's side. She sniffed tentatively at his hand.

"She won't bite you," Ken said smiling impishly as Ran watched the dog through slit eyes. 

"If she's anything like her master, that's not the least bit comforting." Nevertheless, he reached out and gently patted the dog's head, earning a strong tail wag for his efforts.

They both slipped out of their shoes, leaving them by the doorway. "Come on in." Ken gestured for Ran to follow as he made his way into the living area.

The cool air pelted Ran as they entered the room, his body reminding him that he was still somewhat damp. 

"Wait here," Ken said, starting off down the hall with the gym bag to assumingly get the towels to dry off.

Ran took in the makings of the room. It was very large, and not messy like he had imagined it would be. In contrast to his own living room, Ken's décor was very dark- mostly blacks and deep browns. There were some sort of Tribal masks hanging on the wall, and other jungle-like motifs were scattered about. His eyes landed on a row of picture frames, and instantly his curiosity got the best of him. Ran glided over to the bookshelf.

The first one seemed rather recent, Ken's appearance pretty much identical to his current state. He stood straight and proud, a soccer ball resting between his arm and hip as he smiled openly to the viewer. There were many small children sitting on the ground all around his feet, looking equally as happy though a little more disheveled. 

The next picture also seemed to be taken recently. It was sort of far off, but he could definitely make out the two people to be Ken and Youji. They were standing in front of a movie theatre sign advertising the opening of _Tried and True. Ran instantly remembered it as one of the screenplays Ken had mentioned working on._

There were a few more pictures lined up. Some of Ken as a child, bright eyed and mischievous, others of him looking adorably upset from a scraped knee or scuffed elbow. However, it was the last one in the row that caught Ran's eye.

There was a man and a woman, probably in their early forties, hand in hand. They were standing outside of a shop of some sort, and although the man was blocking out most of the shop window, Ran could make out the word Koneko. 

The woman, Ran realized, had Ken's open and warm smile. Her sleek black hair was tumbling over her shoulder as her free hand waved to the person taking the shot. The man was tall and lean, his skin very dark and tanned compared to the paleness of the woman. His brown hair was wavy and unruly, nearly covering a very familiar pair of brown eyes.

"My parents," Ken said quietly at Ran's back, causing him to jump a little in surprise. Ran gave a sidelong glance at Ken, taking note of the uncharacteristic frown that had crept into Ken's features and the same pair of eyes on the man in the picture.

"You have your mother's smile," Ran murmured in response, turning to look back at the picture.

"Yea, but I think I look more like dad," Ken replied, a little softness creeping back into his face. "He's half American," Ken added thoughtfully. "My grandmother was from New York city."

Ran turned to Ken, suddenly feeling for some reason he needed to take Ken's mind off the photo. It seemed to disturb him. "It's a nice city," he supplied.

Ken walked away from the bookshelf, retrieving the bundle he had placed on the coffee table. "Oh? Been there before?"

Ran nodded. "I spent a lot of time in America." He decided Ken didn't really need to know more than that.

Ken clutched the bundle to his chest, smiling slyly at Ran. "You speak English?" Ran nodded in response. "Say something in English," Ken said, his eyes twinkling with interest.

Ran hesitated, not quite sure what to say. But if Ken didn't know English, he figured it didn't much matter exactly what he said to him. He stared at Ken for a moment, the silence becoming overwhelming.

"You have beautiful eyes," Ran said in perfect English, his Japanese accent not even creeping into the smallest syllable.

Ken smiled, reaching out to hand Ran a towel. "Thank you," he replied also in perfect English.

Ran blinked, suddenly feeling like the biggest fool ever.

Ken's smile broadened so wide, his eyes crinkled at the corners. "What did I say about assuming?" He teased Ran, shaking his head as if he pitied him. "After all, my grandmother **was** English," he said, unrolling his own towel.

Ran glared back at him, gripping the towel roughly. "I hate you."

Ken shrugged. Not really pressing the subject any further. He felt Ran had been embarrassed enough for one day. He shoved the rest of the bundle into Ran's hands.

"Here's some dry clothes. I'm pretty sure you can fit into my size. The bathroom is down the hall, first door to your left."

Ran nodded grimly, taking off down the hall. 

Ken just chuckled softly at his retreating back, making his way into his own bedroom to find a change of clothing.

Shutting the door behind him, he begin to strip deftly, rummaging around in the closet for clean jeans. "Shit," he muttered to himself. "I gave him my last pair." 

Ken glanced down at the large bath towel, deciding he would have to make his way to the laundry room to find something to wear. He grabbed up the towel from his bed and wrapped it securely around his waist, opting that it was better than streaking through the house.

He opened the door, stepping out into the hall at the exact same moment Ran exited the bathroom. 

Seconds passed as they stood there stalk still, neither one speaking nor moving. Ran appeared frozen in time, his hand still loosely resting atop the bathroom doorknob. A slow, steady grin began to unroll across Ken's face.

"Now who's staring?" He said, watching Ran through half-mast slits of deep brown.

Ran rolled his eyes, as if the spell was finally broken. He turned on his heel, retreating back into the living room.

Ken smiled, pleased. Maybe it wasn't noticeable yet, but he had seen it in that moment -just a small glimmer, a broken shard floating through Ran's eyes. He had, in that instant, let all his shields down, making himself open and vulnerable.

So the fortress walls weren't impenetrable after all.  

-----------------------------------------------TBC---------------------------------------------

If there's any confusion, the appearance and heritage of Ken's parent's were made that way to fit into my storyline. Oh, and perhaps I should have mentioned this from the start of my story, but the way Ken looks in my fic is based on his character design from Weiss Side B. Because in my opinion, he looks his sexiest there ^_^ His haircut is adorable in Side B. Sort of a boring chapter, but the interaction between Ken and Ran was cute :)


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